I'll never give up (I promise)
by isaacswolfsbane
Summary: Wartime AU. Remus is suffering from PTSD as well as physical injuries, and Hermione is the only one who can bring him out of his memories. (Warning for character death, portrayal of ptsd, and self-harm (scratching))


**QLFC Round 12 - Pair Them Up!;  
** _Cannons, Captain:_ Write about two characters (Remus/Hermione) in a romantic relationship.

 **AN:** This was originally meant to be a WW2 AU but I think it's more just generic wartime AU now.  
Thank you so much to Mags, Mary, Amy, and Autumn for betaing :3  
The PTSD Remus suffers isn't anything I have experience with, so I've tried not to go into too much detail or make too much of it. I've used what I know from my own and my friends' mental health issues to help explain it, but I'm fully aware that this may not be how someone with PTSD behaves.

 _ **Warning for character death, PTSD, and minor self-harm (scratching, but in very little detail).**_

* * *

 **I'll never give up (I promise)**

 _Remus runs, his finger squeezing slightly around the trigger of his gun as each footstep hits the ground. He senses his comrades, his brothers in arms, surrounding him on all sides. He's in the lead; he's the only one willing to scout the way, the only one with a good enough aim to take out the enemy while on the move._

 _A movement in his peripheries catches his attention. The gun in his hand is already being drawn up to eye level before his head has fully turned. The second his head is in the right direction, he shoots. Several other bullets fly moments after his own, and soon the area is still once more._

 _The sky darkens._

 _It's as if God himself has decided to punish Remus for his ability. Clouds fill the sky and rain starts to pour. Visibility is next to nothing, and the whole squadron is out in the open—if there's an ambush, they'll be screwed._

 _They're in unscouted territory, but Remus remembers seeing some sort of shelter on the map. As head of the squadron, he makes the call to change direction and find shelter._

 _It was the wrong decision._

 _Remus leads them from the path the Commander told them to take and heads over barren wasteland in what he thinks is the direction of the shelter._

 _A click breaks the uneasy silence, followed by the scraping of metal. Remus freezes. They all freeze._

" _Keep still," he says, turning his head to face the group._

 _The terrified face of a young boy is the only thing he registers. He's a new recruit, only joined the squadron a week ago, and Remus would be surprised if the boy is actually old enough to be there._

" _What's your name?" Remus asks._

" _Dennis," the boy squeaks._

" _Well, Dennis, I'm going to need to be very brave for me," Remus' voice is calm, controlled, even though he feels anything but. "We have no way to dismantle that mine. I'm going to need you to stay as still as you can for as long as you can. The only way you can help is to let us get away before it goes off. Can you do that for me, Dennis?"_

 _Remus, followed by the rest of his squadron, starts taking careful steps backwards as he speaks._

 _Dennis nods, slightly too vigorously. The movement shifts his whole body and causes the mine to explode._

* * *

Remus jolts awake, a scream bursting from his lips before he is able to control it. The usually soft cotton sheets suffocate him, clinging to every part of him, a reminder of the shrapnel still embedded throughout his body. He scrapes his nails up his legs, clawing at his skin to bring him back to the present instead of remaining lost in the past—he has permanent scars from doing this, but the nurses are unable to find a cure for the memories in his head.

A nurse rushes in brandishing a long needle. It's _his_ nurse, the one with the chocolate brown eyes that flood him with warmth, that ground him to reality, that calm him. She gets closer, and he can already feel himself getting lost in those pools, his heartbeat falling back to a steadier pace.

"How are we feeling today, Remus?" she asks.

"Nightmare," he gasps. His breathing is still erratic even though his pulse has slowed.

"Tell me," she says, coming to sit in the chair beside his bed—a sign it isn't quite time for his next round of medicine. "Tell me everything."

He does. He tells her about the war; about the friends he lost; about Dennis, the fifteen-year-old boy who managed to sneak in; about his best friend who's still out there fighting; about his mother, who was killed in an attack the week before Remus was discharged due to his injuries.

Surprisingly, when he's finished speaking, Remus feels much calmer. The sheets no longer feel as though they're suffocating him, and the dark clouds plaguing his mind after his dreams dissipate.

"I've never told anyone all of that before," he admits. "Normally, I'd just write it down." Remus pulls out a worn, leather notebook from underneath his pillow and offers it to the nurse. "My diary," he tells her. "It's where I keep all my deepest, darkest secrets. You can read them if you'd like."

The nurse laughs as she takes the notebook from his hands and lays it down on the stand next to his bed.

"Am I amusing you… I'm sorry, I don't think I've ever asked your name. May I?" He surprises himself as humour forces its way into his tone—he hasn't been able to manage anything near a joke in months.

"Hermione," the nurse says, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Hermione Granger."

"Remus Lupin." He tries to extend a hand, but pain flares up his side—there's a piece of shrapnel the size of a fingernail buried deeply just below his ribcage that nobody has been able to remove; it was a literal, agonizing pain in his side.

"Where was I?" he shakes his head. "Ah, yes. Am I amusing you, Hermione? Do my deepest, darkest fears entertain you so fiercely that you just have to let out that adorable laugh of yours?"

He isn't sure what's happening, why he feels light all of a sudden. He thinks it may be a delusion caused by the pain, or maybe they've finally given him more medicine to combat it, but he notices her hand is still tightly clasped around the syringe. It isn't until his gaze rests on her soft, almond-shaped eyes, ones that seem to look into his soul in a way it's never been breached before, that he knows it's her.

"It's time for your next dose, Remus," she says, glancing at the clock for slightly longer than necessary. Remus suspects she's trying to hide the blush spreading fervently across her cheeks.

She stands, and Remus frees his arm—he knows what to do, he's been having the same medicine for the pain since he was admitted. He shouldn't still be here, but every time they say he can leave the pain in his side is too much to handle and he returns within the week (sometimes for the pain itself, sometimes because he purposely injured himself to distract from it).

He sleeps well after she leaves. The usual grey clouds filling his mind are banished by the warm glow she radiates.

* * *

 _Something's wrong. Remus doesn't know what, but this is different from usual. The sky is dark, too dark, but he's still able to see clearly. There's a light nearby, something giving off a faint glow._

 _He turns quickly, his head snapping left and right until he finds the source. It's_ her _. It's his nurse. Hermione. She shouldn't be here._

 _She's on the floor. Not hurt, just crouched over someone who is. He wonders why. He knows she's a nurse, but he also knows she's never done fieldwork. She was too valuable to be sent into the field, too good at her job—they didn't want to lose her._

 _Remus doesn't either._

 _He strides over to her, each step stretching further, falling quicker than the one before._

 _Her hair is falling into her eyes, she's murmuring softly to the person below her. Remus is about to shout, to demand what she's doing there, when he recognises the man she's healing. Sirius._

 _He starts to sit up and Hermione notices Remus. A smile starts to spread across her face, words directed to him forming on her lips._

 _Then the bomb explodes._

* * *

Remus wakes up screaming. He hasn't done this in a long time, not since Hermione started staying by his bedside while he sleeps. Instantly, she's there, leaning over him, her hands soft and gentle as she soothes him, attempting to bring him back to reality.

She looks scared. He's never seen this look on her face before and something claws inside him, ready to harm the person that caused it. Then he realises it was him.

"Are you okay?" he asks. Remus gingerly lifts an arm to try and move Hermione's hair behind her ear. She shies away from the touch, but her face flushes a deep scarlet.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

"You look so worried," he tells her. "I'm sorry."

"It's not you," she says. "It's everything. The war, the number of patients being brought in…"

Remus can tell she's lying. Not outright, he's heard several other nurses say similar things enough times to know that what Hermione says is true, but the way she looks at him tells a different story.

He pushes himself up to sitting, ignoring the pain that still shoots through his side with every move he makes.

"You can tell me, you know," he says gently. "That you're worried about me—that you like me. It's not unheard of for nurses to… care for their patients. Neither of us ever leave this hospital so how else are we supposed to find someone?"

"I… I don't know what you mean," she stammers, her cheeks flushing with colour once more.

"Yes, you do."

Remus sighs. He's known his feelings for Hermione ran deeper than the average patient-nurse relationship for a while now, and he knows Hermione feels the same. He doesn't want to force her into confessing, not really, but it's been going on for too long.

"Hermione," he says. "You either like me or you don't. It took me years to learn how to love myself; I don't have time to convince somebody else. They're letting me out next weekend, and they've told me not to come back—they can't keep wasting resources on me with the influx of patients they've been getting."

"Remus, I—"

"Come with me," he says, his eyes trained on his bedsheets. He doesn't know what she was about to say, and he doesn't care. He no longer has the energy to fight with her. "I'm going to need somebody to look after me and there's nobody else I'd rather spend my remaining days with."

"You say days like you don't expect to live for very long."

"I won't if you don't come with me," he tells her. He doesn't want to guilt trip her into leaving—that's the last thing he wants—but he doesn't want to lie to her either. "My mother's dead, my father left when I was a child, and my best friends are still fighting. I have nobody, and one day the pain is going to get too much for me. You make it bearable, you're the only one who does."

He finally turns his head, finally looks at her. There are tears streaming from her eyes. She nods, and this time when Remus moves to touch her face, she doesn't flinch.

* * *

Remus isn't sure exactly what sets him off this time, some memory or intrusive thought as he starts to drop off in front of the fire. He's shaking, his teeth clamped tightly together to stop himself from breathing. His nails rake across his skin; his legs, his stomach, his arms, his face—anything to claw himself back to reality.

"Stop." Hermione takes both of his hands in her own, the touch alone helps him breathe a little easier. "You're going to put yourself back in hospital if you keep this up. Talk me through it."

"I don't know what it was," he admits. What he doesn't admit is that he rarely knows what it is anymore—just dark skies and loved ones lost. His dreams stopped making sense a long time ago. He remembers one where Sirius turned into a trap and took Hermione out with him. Of course, that didn't happen—Hermione is here with him and Sirius is MIA.

He doesn't realise his nails are raking at his skin once more until Hermione tugs on his hands.

"I've done some reading," she says. Remus smiles—since she stopped working full time at the hospital to take care of Remus at home, she's been reading everything she can get her hands on. "And some research at the hospital. There isn't much on it, but the books say you should try to ground yourself. Find something in real life to pull you out of your thoughts. A physical feeling or an object."

Remus' hands twitch. He isn't sure, but he reckons scratching himself would be his version of 'grounding'.

"No," she says sternly. "Find something that won't cause you pain, that won't injure you. I—" She takes a deep breath. "I get worried that one day you'll cause too much damage, that one day you won't— one day you won't stop."

Remus is standing, his arms wrapped around Hermione before he realises what's happening. He barely even notices the way the pain in his side flares up, protesting the sudden movement.

"It's you, you know," he says after a while. He's still standing with his arms wrapped around Hermione—she's crying quietly and he doesn't want to let go until she stops. "You're the thing that grounds me, you always have been."

She looks up at him, her head at a funny angle because of his arm. "Really?"

He bends down and plants a kiss on her forehead before reluctantly moving away from her and taking a seat on the sofa. He pats the spot next to her and she joins him, curling up into his side.

"Really," he tells her. "It started in the hospital—I'd get lost in your eyes and they'd distract me from my thoughts. Now… now it's just you. It's a like a glow follows you around. You brighten up every room you enter and I'm instantly calm."

A moment later they're kissing. It starts off slow, full of meaning, but it becomes quicker, more desperate. He knows why—there have been bombings nearby and everyone's afraid that their sleepy little village will be next.

* * *

Their wedding is a quiet affair. The only guests in attendance are Remus' old school friend, Peter (he received a dishonourable discharge), and Hermione's parents. Everybody else they knew is either dead or missing.

The honeymoon is spent in their own house, neither of them wanting to leave the comfort of each other's arms.

Nine months later, their daughter is born. They name her Hope, partly after Remus' mother, partly because they say the war is almost over. Neither of them can help in any way, so they sit and they hope.

But the war isn't over. It continues for months. Remus, Hermione, and Hope stay together in their little protected bubble. Their village is one of the safer areas of the country; the surrounding area has been free of attacks since before they were wed.

Remus decides he should look for work—it isn't easy raising a baby with nobody working to support the family and the pain in his side is bearable when he uses a cane. He finds a farmer who needs help with deliveries. Nothing too strenuous, just somebody who can read and write, somebody who is good at maths. Remus is perfect for the job.

He settles into the work. It's only a small income, but it's better than nothing and it gets him out of the house in the mornings.

It gets him out of the house when the bomb comes, too. Hermione isn't so lucky.

He races home as soon as he sees the blast. Not caring about the pain in his side, not caring about the people trying to usher him inside, usher him to safety. He has to see. He has to know if his family is okay.

Hermione is still alive when he arrives, but barely. Her wounds are too great to be healed. She's going to die, and they both know it.

He cradles her in his arms; stroking her hair, planting kisses anywhere it won't hurt her, taking in her beauty while he can. She needs to know how much he loves her before she passes but he can't make the words come out of his mouth. Instead, he settles for eye contact. Hoping her deep, beautiful eyes will pick up all the love he's trying to convey through his own.

He's still looking when her eyes go blank.

* * *

" _You have to keep going," Hermione says. "If anything happens to Hope and me, you have to keep going."_

" _Don't talk like that," Remus says. He knows there's a chance—they're living in a time of war—but that doesn't mean he wants to think about it._

" _Remus, you have to know that there's a distinct possibility of an attack. We aren't safe here, nobody's safe here, or anywhere." Hermione's tone is calm, but Remus can still hear the concealed panic._

" _I know," he says. His thumb is tracing circles on her lower back as they watch Hope playing with her toys in the corner of the room. "But this is all so perfect. I don't want to think about the alternative. I don't want to go back there."_

" _And you won't!" Hermione says, her voice loud and full of passion. "That's what I'm saying. If… If you were to be left alone again, I don't want you going back to how you were before. You told me once you'd spent years learning to love yourself; don't throw that away."_

" _Okay," he tells her._

 _His hand tightens around her waist and she's pulled into his arms, the kisses passing between them broken only by smiles._

* * *

He isn't sure whether it's a memory or just a dream, but when he stands over their graves, the sounds of victory ringing through the streets, he remembers and he smiles.

 _I'll never give up. I promise._

* * *

 **Word Count:** 2,944.

* * *

 **This is for:**

 _ **Hogwarts Halloween Party - Bingo;  
** 9 - (scenario) having a nightmare._

 _ **Hogwarts Assignment 8 - Arithmancy;  
** Task 2 - Write about someone bringing another person out of the dark._

 _ **Hogwarts October Event - Around The World In 31 Days;  
** Trinidad and Tobago - (dialogue) "Tell me everything."_

 _ **Hogwarts Duelling Club - Alderwood Wand;  
** (dialogue) "Am I amusing you, [insert name]?"_  
 _(item) Notebook/Diary_  
 _(pairing) Hermione/Remus_  
 _(quote) "You either like me or you don't. It took me years to learn how to love myself, I don't have time to convince somebody else."_  
 _(word) Possibility._


End file.
